


i want all that is not mine

by thisdarkpassenger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Post-Hogwarts, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisdarkpassenger/pseuds/thisdarkpassenger
Summary: "Harry?" she says, curiously—but then her face relaxes into that smile that's always made Harry weak at the knees. Post Hogwarts AU. Harry and Hermione meet up again after a few years away from the wizarding world. Harry/Hermione
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	i want all that is not mine

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave a review :)
> 
> Disclaimer: no beta, all mistakes are mine.

_Wow_. What are the odds?

(It's crazy that upon seeing Hermione Granger for the first time in three years, Harry's first thought is actually _I wonder how SPSS would chart this development_ —but then again, three methods & stats modules in three terms are bound to make someone a little bit nutty.)

He's spent the last three years wondering if this was in the cards for him: another chance, on a more even playing field.

It didn't influence his decision to go to London, which was in fact purely academic (and based on Luna's choices as much as his own), but there had always been that uncertain pull in the back of his mind that said, _this isn't Hogwarts and it isn't Little Whinging, and things could be different here_.

By "different," he hadn't meant exactly this, though: running into a distracted barista, Hermione who, without looking up, says, "Okay, next—what can I get you, sweetheart?", which—

The first response that comes to mind is _definitely_ not his order.

"Vanilla latte, skim milk, large," he says, hoping it comes off as steady and prepared and not like he's about to pass out. "And a small cappuccino. And… er.. a muffin." Oh _Merlin, did I just actually ask her for a muffin?_

Hermione looks up, thankfully, before he can say even more.

"Harry?" she says, curiously—but then her face relaxes into that smile that's always made Harry weak at the knees. And then she _squeals_.

Some part of Harry dies, on the spot. Happy, maybe. Mostly just dead.

"Hi," he says, stupidly. "It's … been a while"

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asks, still all bubbly and excited, scribbling down his order on two cups and sending them sliding down the other end of the counter.

"Ordering caffeinated drinks," Harry says, cursing himself mentally. _Merlin_ , he has a 3.9 GPA at Cambridge. He can damn well form words like a normal person. "Um, I mean, I live here."

"What, in the city?" Hermione asks, her smile falling a bit. "Why haven't you—I mean, I guess we drifted apart, but still. You're the only person I know in the city who's from Hogwarts, I guess. That means something, right?"

"Luna's here," Harry says, digging around his pocket for some change. "I mean, Luna and I are both here."

Hermione blinks at him rapidly before taking his twenty and then says, "Right. I see. And you were worried I would tell Ron or Ginny or someone."

"Um," Harry says, before shaking his head when Hermione tries to hand him some change. "Keep it. And … what?"

Hermione's face draws a little more shuttered when she says, "I know I had my moments of insanity in our final year, like when we spied on you two in the library, but I haven't spoken to Ron since I moved here and anyway, it's none of my business what you do with Luna."

"I know, I wasn't—I just—" Harry says. Part of him is trying to figure out just how much he just tipped Hermione, and the rest of him is trying to say something sensible. None of that is really working for him, though. "We should see. Each other. Sometime. Now that we all know we're here."

Hermione nods a little with uncertainty, but a small smile returns to her face.

"I have an owl, you know"

"I'll find you," he says.

Hermione gives him another one of those grins, then says, "Please do. I'm—this is going to sound so weird, but I'm so so glad to see you. I mean, to see that you are doing okay. I miss you."

 _Oh, the irony,_ Harry's evil inner head voice says, even as he feels his own eyes well up. "Yeah, well, someone once told me that I had a lot more going for me than … you know. Being the boy who lived."

They look at each other for another moment, but then Hermione turns to the next customer in line with a smaller, more professional smile, and Harry's eyes drift a little further down to where Hermione's skirt is—

Oh, _fuck_ , and he knows he's blushing furiously now, so it's probably time to make a semi-dignified exit.

(He's already out the door before he remembers that his order is still being processed, and falls back inside towards the collection area, hoping he doesn't look as stupid as he feels.)

* * *

He shoves the latte towards Luna, across their kitchen table, where she's busy doing some homework.

"That took you long enough. Thought you were on your way about twenty minutes ago," she says, before taking a sip and groaning. "Ah, mate, Potter—you let it get cold."

He drops into the chair opposite hers and cups his cappuccino. "You'll forgive me when I explain _why_ I'm so late."

Luna looks up from her work, and her face slowly relaxes into a smile. "No way."

"Yeah," Harry sighs. "I mean, I always thought it might happen someday, but—"

"Yeah, the chances of that happening are higher when you _know_ through Ginny which café she works in," Luna says, leaning back in her chair and grinning at him.

"I wasn't looking at a list of cafés or anything when I headed in, okay. You left me a note asking for coffee; hers was just the nearest café. It was an accidental meeting," Harry says, with a frown, until he can feel that stupid Hermione-inspired grin come over him again. "Fated, almost."

"Uh huh. So how'd it go?" Luna asks, taking another sip of cold latte with a wince.

"Yeah…" Harry says, staring at the cappuccino and Hermione's neat script on the side of it. "Not so great."

"What, is she now afraid of you? You two were family. I didn't think she would be."

"She thinks you and I are together," Harry says, sighing deeply. "She thinks that we had some elaborate ruse to not piss Ginny or, I don't even know, off during our final year at Hogwarts and that studying is code for our secret affair that's now lasted for years."

Luna actually laughs at him. "Oh, boy. And you didn't think it would be helpful to point out that I'm gay?"

All he can do is chuckle.

"Somewhere between tipping her approximately 300% for a cappuccino I had to wait twenty minutes to get and wondering if it's even legal for baristas to wear skirts that short, I forgot to bring up the fact that you're into women and I'm into her."

Luna laughs again and looks back at her work "Geez, two minutes around Hermione Granger and it's post Voldemort all over again."

"Don't you dare tell Ginny about this. Merlin, she only stopped calling me Edmund Pevensie three months ago—"

"I'm not going to tell her," Luna says, with a smile, and started reaching for paper. "I'm actually telling everyone we know, because you are just that sad."

"Whatever, Luna. I'm going to go send her a letter now that I know she has an owl."

She applauds him. "Finally; a positive change from questioning her existence."

"Shut up," he mumbles, because honestly, she has no right—after all those years of trying to sneak looks up Ginny's various skirts, she should just give him a bloody break.

* * *

Hermione responds to his greeting almost immediately, and Harry spends the next day and a half trying to come up with an invitation for a drink that isn't just oh _Merlin, I love you, move in with me_ , because a) that would be insane and b) he and Luna live in what feels like, the world's biggest in apartment and really he is not sure if he can handle another roommate.

It's sad, though. It's actually just pathetic how he can't come up with any decent thing to say. He's had years to prepare for this moment. Luna had been _trying_ to prepare him for this moment for years, ever since they'd opened up to each other and had then formed some sort of impenetrable alliance together.

At first, their friendship revival really had just been about helping each other out in their studies: many early evenings spent in the library, working on assignments, sometimes playing chess with, and occasionally discussing the future.

Hanging out in that library during their last year was filled with more moments of normalcy than there had ever been, and by their last few moments, it occurred to him that Luna Lovegood was probably runner up for best friend. He felt he lost a lot, and Voldemort consumed him for the better part of his time at Hogwarts, but he'd gained Luna, and somehow that had amounted to a victory anyway.

Of course, the year had come with parties and having to watch Hermione and Ron pine for each other respectfully from other sides of the room, which had led to fire whiskey and potentially terrible decision-making, if not for Luna's careful intervention every time he'd so much as looked at Ginny.

The truth had all come out right before the start, when he'd spotted Ron actually leaning down to kiss Hermione for the first time, and had gotten so paralytically drunk that he'd spent the remainder of the party almost tasting porcelain.

Luna had found him and stroked his back as he'd started throwing up and then he'd started crying and had said, "Why doesn't she understand she's so much better than him?"

Luna had hesitated for a few seconds before finally saying, "I don't know, maybe she just doesn't know she has options."

"Like what?" Harry had sighed, rubbing at his eyes and taking the glass of water she was handing him.

"Okay, we're going to—stop messing around about this, because I only go and do certain things because people need me, and you only do things because you're worried what people will say if you stop, but, Harry, you're like totally in love with Hermione," she'd said, really gently and with a supportive hand on his shoulder.

He was borderline on the verge of hiccupping and had said, "That's crazy, and you're only saying that because I'm drunk."

Luna had rubbed at the back of his neck and said, "It's okay, you know, I mean. I kind of love Ginny."

"Ginny's a girl," Harry had pointed out, aimlessly.

"Yeah. I mean, I know. That's kind of why I kind of love her," Luna had said, sounding really embarrassed. "I just wanted you to know, you know, that it's okay. I mean, I think it's okay. Some day, we won't be at Hogwarts, and we don't have to be in the wizarding world, and it'll be fine to be like this."

* * *

They've been inseparable ever since.

Only a few people from Hogwarts—Ginny being the most obvious contender—know that they're not actually a couple.

Some day, Luna will have to tell her parents that she's actually seeing a fiery redhead, and Harry will have to break the news to the Weasley's that his type is actually slightly arrogant, Ron's ex, and too smart for her own good. None of that negates that they are incredibly close and wouldn't have ever made it through the last year of Hogwarts, let alone out of the wizarding world, without each other.

Luna can basically read his mind, and does just that, stopping in his doorway on the way back from the kitchen and saying, "We should go to that wizards pub and watch the Chudley Cannons, so if you lose the ability to form words again, we can all just watch some Quidditch."

"You could try to be a little understanding, you know; I distinctly remember you almost throwing up on Ginny's shoes when you tried to tell her how you feel," Harry says, with a glare.

"Maybe if you hadn't laughed at me, I would be nicer now," she says, tossing him a snack with a smile.

"I can do this. I'm an awesome psychology major and the chosen one," he says, mostly to himself, but with a pointed look at Luna.

She smiles for another moment and then steps into his room, nudging him away from his desk. "How about you just work up the nerve to have a normal conversation with her, and I'll send her a message that makes it seem like you're mentally all there."

* * *

Admitting to Luna how he felt had basically opened up a floodgate of feelings that he really just hadn't been ready to deal with.

Most of their last year, he'd worked out new and interesting ways to avoid Hermione, who now only had to look at him to get him completely tongue-tied. He'd tried putting distance between them, but honestly, his heart hadn't been in it and now everything just remained lodged in his throat.

Luna had distracted him, to the best of her ability, and then before he'd been able to come to any sort of terms with what he'd actually wanted to do about his... thing for Hermione, it had been the last week of school and he'd been asked to write a speech about where they had come from and where they were going and everything they had gone through.

In the end, there had never been any choice than to start his speech with, "Someone once told me that I was a lot more than just the boy who lived"—but that had been the last thing he'd said to Hermione, and he'd directed it at almost a few hundred.

It was only when Hermione had packed up and left that Harry realized that there was now a massive, Hermione-shaped void in his life that he'd possibly never stop thinking about. He'd spent two days on the verge of going after her.

Luna had stopped him, and said, "you are going to scare her if you go after her like this. She thinks you almost hate her, so you need a lot more of a plan than just heading to London and throwing yourself at her."

Harry had sighed and gotten really drunk, and that had been the end of it, basically.

* * *

Except now, they live in London, and Hermione is meeting them for drinks to watch a quidditch game, and he's so fluttery and nervous that he thinks he might actually vomit on Hermione's shoes the way that Luna almost did on Ginny's.

"Don't worry, I brought a barf bag" and then whispered "and my wand, whatever works the best" almost on cue, wrapping an arm around him on the tube. "Just in case. And just remember, you're so hot people walk into doors when they look at you. The absolute worst thing that could happen is that she'd be flattered."

It's sort of a consolation.

* * *

That smooth start he's been hoping for: a complete failure.

The first thing he blurts out when he sees Hermione is, "Is there a fabric shortage in the UK that I'm just not aware of?"

Luna elbows him in the ribs, hard, but Hermione somehow just laughs and tips onto her toes to press kisses to both of their cheeks.

"Merlin. Look at you two," she says, with a fond smile. "I always did think you looked great together."

Luna says, "Good to see you again, Hermione; you look incredible" and pulls her into a hug, and Harry has to work fairly hard to not growl at her when she winks at him in the process.

"So—quidditch?" Hermione asks, when they're sitting down. "I am a bit surprised you never pursued it, Harry."

"Just never worked out."

Hermione smiles, "This is going to sound so lame, but I'm so happy to see you both. You look great. Honest. Just—a lot more relaxed than you have ever looked."

"I mean, we were both under a lot of pressure. Now we're just—"

"Ourselves," Harry says, with a small smile at Hermione. "Finally."

Hermione's smile back is a little confused and a lot curious, and Luna says, "Right, I'm going to go and step out for a minute. I'll be right back."

Harry trains his eyes on the television above the bar when Luna slides out of the booth behind him.

Hermione smiles and says, "So. You and Luna."

Harry's eyes leave the TV and look back at Hermione. "We're best friends."

"It shows," Hermione says, with sort of a wistful look on her face. "You two are… well, everything I would've wanted to be with Ron. But we never really made it there."

Harry takes a deep breath and decides to just put it out there, because, honestly. "Hermione—you don't want what Luna and I have."

"Don't be silly; everyone wants that level of connectedness and comfort with another person," Hermione protests, finishing off a gin & tonic with a small noise.

"Sure," Harry says, before sighing and grabbing Luna's drink, ignoring Hermione's surprised look. "I'm pretty sure that most people also want sex, though."

Hermione shrugs and says, "Sometimes waiting makes sense."

Oh, Merlin, help me, Harry thinks, and then clears his throat. "Um, she is not so much waiting as just— me lacking the appropriate equipment. For her that is." The sip of beer he takes is a little pointed, and when he licks at his lips to get rid of the lingering foam, Hermione's eyes widen almost comically.

"Oh," she says, staring at her empty drink like she's willing it to refill itself.

Harry sees Luna, clearly talking to Ginny if the goofy look on her face is anything to go by, outside, and mimes a drink before pointing at Hermione. She gives him a thumbs up and then laughs at something Ginny's saying, and Harry looks back at Hermione with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. I'm just not used to people assuming that we're together anymore," he says.

Hermione's face goes through a variety of expressions until she looks straight at Harry and says, "I'm going to kill Ginny Weasley. That little. Luna is who she's been seeing for the past six months, isn't she."

Harry fights a smile. "No comment, though I will say that if Ginny didn't tell you it's because Luna asked her not to."

"Why?" Hermione asks.

"Because," Harry says, with a sigh. "Her parents don't know, and we've both tried pretty hard to not have any overly strong connections to the wizarding world since we've moved out here. Except the occasional wizards pub, meeting and sending letters to the Weasleys. Things just slip out, and she really should be the one to tell her family, in her own time."

Another gin & tonic appears in front of Hermione, and she downs it in one go.

She doesn't say anything else, though, and Harry sighs in relief when Luna nudges him over to the other side of the booth and says, "So. What'd I miss?"

* * *

"On so many levels," Harry agrees, smiling when Luna checks her watch and says, "Guys, this has been great, but I need to bail; I have an evaluation tomorrow morning and I am absolutely no prepared, so—"

"Oh," Hermione says, looking between them. "Well, I had a good time, but—"

"I don't have to go," Harry says, quickly, because at this point it's just easier to acknowledge that he has zero percent restraint or game around Hermione, and he can handle Luna giving him shit about it. "Unless you—"

"No, no, I'm fine," Hermione says, shrugging and blearily looking at the five empty drinks in front of her. "Let's stay. I can drink more, I think."

Luna shrugs back into her jacket and presses a kiss to Harry's skull, before saying, "I think you might have a chance" in a low voice.

Harry hisses a shut up at her, but finds himself dopily smiling at Hermione anyway.

"You're not with Luna," Hermione says, staring back with a similarly drunk expression.

"Yep," Harry says.

Beer number five was definitely one too many. Merlin, he hardly ever drinks; only when he's nervous and emotional, which explains the rapid pace of consumption tonight.

"Oh, maybe," Hermione begins, with a small smile. "There's a mystery person from the past."

"Not really," Harry mumbles, because, _duh_ , very much in the present now.

"Well, then, who? I know all your friends from back then, and—" Hermione says, and Harry can literally see the moment that truth rushes past all the alcohol and floods her brain.

"Sorry," he says, and then almost actually hits himself in the face, because what kind of reaction is that?

"Don't apologize," Hermione says, before finishing drink number six. "But. Really? It was always Cho or Ginny for years. I thought you didn't want to be around me anymore."

"Yeah… not really, actually," Harry says, with a wince.

"I'm really sorry," Harry says, again.

"You've liked me for years," Hermione says, still sounding a little disbelieving.

"I mean, I have… really good self-control. For the most part. I won't like… I'll stay two feet away from you at all times," Harry says, a little miserably. "I just thought you should know because everyone else does, so if we're going to start hanging out—"

"The most attractive guy I've ever met likes me," Hermione says, and Harry braces himself for whatever insanity is going to follow when her eyes light up at the idea. "This is so weird. I feel like I'm in some adaptation of Cinderella, and it's already past midnight and there are no pumpkins."

Harry feels himself die a little on the inside. "I see you are somewhat submerged in muggle pop culture. I'm glad you're flattered, but can we maybe—change the subject?"

Hermione blinks twice and says, "Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry. I just—of course. We can um, talk about that game that was on earlier. Go Canons, right?"

Harry runs a hand across his face with a sigh and says, "I'll get us some more drinks"

* * *

Hermione sends him approximately fifteen apologetic letters the next day, and Harry reads and re-reads all of them.

"Is this a good thing?" he asks Luna, when she leans over his shoulder and reads the one that just says _It's only natural that I'm flattered, but I want you to know that I'm flattered not just because you're so attractive but also because I know what an absolutely incredible person you are._

"Well, she's not running and screaming, and she clearly hasn't called Mrs. Weasley yet to like, ruin your life."

Harry sighs and rubs at his eyes. "The problem is that I do want to talk about it, and by talking about it I mostly mean like, shoving her up against a vertical structure and showing her exactly—"

"Ew," Luna says, backing away from his chair. "Potter, you really need to get some."

"Here's another one."

_Maybe we can meet for tea or coffee and talk about it (without drinking). I really just want to apologize._

Luna grins when he reads it out loud. "Who knows, Harry. Maybe you won't be waiting much longer."

* * *

Hermione gets an employee discount and the best, fastest service that Harry has ever seen in a café; and then he smiles when Hermione gives him a latte.

"I'm really sorry if I reacted so unbelievably poorly."

"Hermione, it's okay." Harry says, with a small smile.

"I'd had too much to drink, and honestly, my instinctive reaction was to pinch myself, because this kind of thing just doesn't happen to me. I mean, I've had a crush on you since our fifth year, and I just always thought it was pointless because hello, Cho, Ginny, Ron, Voldemort, horcruxes, the boy who lived, but—"

Harry promptly knocks both of their drinks off the table with one spastic arm jerk. "What did you just say?"

Hermione freezes like a deer in headlights. "I'm—you should probably—oh."

"You. had. a. crush. On me," Harry says, slowly.

Hermione bites her lip nervously and then rolls her eyes with a self-deprecating little laugh. "Harry, I wanted you to be the one to come with me to Australia."

"Yeah, because Ron was spending time with his family," Harry says, staring at Hermione some more. "… right?"

Hermione flinches and nods simultaneously. "Sure. That's what I told myself at the time, because the alternative of just wanting to look at your face and be around you all the time was just—a little too much to handle."

"I treated everyone horribly, I-" Harry says, in a reed-thin tone of voice. "Or at least I thought I was"

"Yeah, well, I didn't think that, now did I," Hermione grumbles, before leaning down and dabbing up their spilt coffee with some napkins.

"Why didn't you ever—" Harry starts to say, but then stops, because that's a mutual accusation; the raised eyebrow on Hermione's face pretty much says it all. "I didn't know you—"

"I'm not. I'm, I mean, I was with Ron and then. Here in London… it's so different," Hermione says, blushing mildly in a way that makes Harry want to knock over the coffee table between them and have her mount him.

He goes for something a little more dignified than that, though. "Our last year could've been so much better for both of us if we'd just been honest with ourselves."

"I don't know. I think we probably have more of a chance out here, in the real world," Hermione says, cautiously, before glancing at Harry from under the table. "Maybe."

"Come to my house for dinner," Harry says, before he loses his nerve. "I'll kill Luna and bury her somewhere so she can't ruin everything with jokes, and I'll make you some pasta. Are you vegan or vegetarian?"

Hermione hits her head on the table hard, on the way back up with two soggy napkins, and then says, "I'll eat anything that you've had your hands on. I mean—that—oh, I", before covering her face with her hands and shaking her head. "What is wrong with me? I'm the most eloquent person I know! I am supposed to be"

It's like staring in a mirror, Harry thinks, before bursting into laughter and saying, "We'll start with pasta, then. I guess. And … see where that goes."

* * *

They are absolutely incapable of talking like two normal people, which is why it's probably a good thing that Harry—after years of training on how to be a good house servant for the Dursleys—is focusing on making an excellent, excellent meal, and Hermione is humming to herself while going through Harry and Luna's CD collection.

"You didn't strike me as the musical type," Hermione says, hopping onto the counter and watching as Harry sautés some mushrooms.

"Yeah, I'm not really. I just have a penchant for… um. Things that a certain someone likes. Maybe," Harry says, tossing the mushrooms in the pan and then rolling his eyes. "I think I'm giving up on being embarrassed around you, now. It's sort of losing all meaning."

"You know, I always thought you were out of this world attractive, and smart if you applied yourself, and admirable, but I never would've thought you'd be this sweet," Hermione says, before picking up a fork and stealing a mushroom from the pan.

Harry glares at her. "Don't mess with dinner until it's done."

"Or what—you'll stupefy me?" Hermione says, with an amused look on her face.

Harry can't help but laugh. "Maybe."

"I didn't realize you had chosen to live here"

"It just seemed like the most logical option. " He begins to say. "I had no idea if I wanted to stay in the wizarding world or become an auror. I figured, at least I have this place" He pauses for a second, "if anything"

"Cambridge? That's a bit far." Harry nods and tilts his head towards the fire place. "Ah I see. But you've always hated apparating."

"You get used to it" He glances up at her. "Or at least you force yourself to."

Hermione offers a small smile and says, "But Honestly, Harry, you've prepared me for the living in the muggle world post Hogwarts more than anyone else ever could have. The iron will and the elephant-like skin I developed has helped immensely."

"Even so," Harry says, lowering the heat and flicking on the kettle to boil some water, before looking back at Hermione. "I would do a lot of things differently, if I could."

"Like what?"

"Like… maybe kiss you. In the corridor, you know, before you pelted Ron with birds."

"As opposed to letting me cry on your shoulder?" Hermione says, with a little grin. "Yeah, that would've probably led to a more… fun conclusion to the night."

Harry laughs almost despite himself, wondering if he's just going to be permanently blushing around Hermione these days. "When did you get this shameless?"

Hermione smiles and says, "Like I said. London is experimental."

Harry takes a sip of wine before passing the glass over to Hermione. "You weren't like this at Hogwarts, that's for sure."

"I guess not," Hermione says, still with a coy little smile. "But… if you play your cards right, you can find out exactly how shameless I am these days. I think you might like it."

Harry fumbles basically all of the pans on the stove at once and watches as their entrée goes flying towards the wall opposite the stove.

"Bloody hell," he says.

Hermione slides off the counter, turns off the stove, and grabs him by the wrist. "It's okay. I've been thinking of dessert as the main course anyway."

* * *

Hermione doesn't seem to care, If the speed at which she's stripped him from his dress shirt is anything to go by.

"I'm sorry, this is probably a bit fast, but I promise I'll take it nice and easy on the important parts," she says, shoving Harry backwards onto his bed.

"I'm fine," Harry promises, sitting up just long enough to yank on Hermione's slip of a skirt and watch it sail down her endless legs. "God, I have thought about this so many times."

"When?" Hermione asks, with another one of those knowing smiles.

"Like, _constantly_ ," Harry says, because it's the truth.

"Be more specific," Hermione says, shimmying out of her panties and then more or less crawling on top of him.

Harry makes a strangled little noise in response, and then can't even respond anymore because Hermione is kissing him, deep and hard and with a lot of pent up want; it's exactly as it should be, between two people who have been so dense for so long, and he feels his nails dig into Hermione's back just hard enough for it to hurt.

"Say it," Hermione murmurs, shifting just enough to start planting small kisses up and down Harry's jaw. "Or I'm getting dressed again and going home."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Harry says, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist and pulling her back down. "You're not going anywhere."

"No, I'm not," Hermione agrees, before pushing up a bit and smiling that same smile that Harry has always been unable to resist. "Say it anyway."

"I don't know what you're trying to get me to admit to doing."

One of Hermione's hands drops to Harry's belt, which came off with a few tugs, and she says, "Really? You don't ever—"

"Ugh, no, of _course_ I do," Harry says, rolling his eyes. "I'm a twenty-one year old guy, I'm not a nun."

"So say it," Hermione asks, again, her nails ghosting over his stomach with another Hand on the buttons of Harry's pants until he trembles.

"I don't say stuff like this. I don't," Harry begins to protest, but he can't help the small smile that forms at the challenging look on Hermione's face.

"Give me time, and you'll say things you've never even thought before now," Hermione says, almost like a promise, before kissing him again, nibbling gently on his lower lip even as his hand skims upward just a little bit more.

Hermione smiles when Harry glances down between them, at where his hand is snaking up Hermione's side and tentatively grazing one of her breasts. "You're pretty amazing, you know," she says, and the playfulness threatens to drop away just like that.

Harry sighs and says, "I know, but keep telling me anyway."

It's not at all serious, and it's not nearly as wrought with meaning as he always figured it would be. Hermione's gentle teasing is distracting him enough to relax completely, and when Hermione stops teasing and starts touching him in earnest, he almost says something stupid like thank you, because it couldn't have been more perfect if they'd spent two years planning for the event.

"Amazing," Hermione says again, when Harry's back arches gently into her hand and his eyes squeeze shut unexpectedly hard.

"Yeah," Harry agrees, when he can.

Hermione's still just sort of goofily looking at him, an incredibly fond smile playing around her lips. "I can't believe I just had sex with Harry Potter," she says, after another moment.

"Shut up, Hermione," Harry laughs, pulling Hermione down for another quick kiss, and then flipping him over in his first of many quests to find out if all that research on how to have sex with girls has been of any help at all.

* * *

They _do_ have dinner, after that, and Hermione looks a little less rampantly horny and confident now, in one of his dress shirts and a pair of sweatpants, curled up on the end of their expensive old couch.

"I just thought it was for the best," she says, when Harry pours them both a little bit more wine. "I mean, I know you've said that you like me, but it's just so hard to believe—I'm sure you feel the same way. Now we can stop wondering if we mean it, because, um. _Wow_. Right?"

Harry smiles and nudges Hermione's thigh with his foot. "Stop being so cute; if you keep it up, we're never going to eat dinner, and it did take me about two hours to do the prep work."

Hermione just smiles back, because bloody hell they are lame together.

Then, she takes a first bite; her eyes widen when she swallows, and then she stares at Harry and says, "We're dating, right? Because after um, the best sex of my life and this absolutely amazing meal, I think you've pretty much ruined me for everyone else in this city, if not just everyone else in this _world_."

Hermione crinkles her nose and says, "We're doing this completely in the wrong order and without a shred of romance."

"Yeah, well, I've tried the right order, and it has never worked out," Harry says, with a wry smile. "Maybe the wrong order is where it's at for us, Hermione."

"Fine. I'm willing to compromise on the order," Hermione says, after a long moment of inhaling more pasta and staring into the distance with a contemplative look. "Not the romance, though."

Harry rolls his eyes and says, "If you insist, you can buy me some flowers tomorrow. And maybe sing me a song about how much you like me, or something."

"Okay then," Hermione says, scraping the last bit of her sauce off the plate with her fork and licking it off. "I'm glad you're amenable to reason."

"Anytime," Harry says, stacking their plates together and putting them down on the floor, just in time before Hermione kisses him again.

* * *

_fin._


End file.
